| Updated: 11/29/2004; 2:41:32 PM. |
| Rayne Today Searching for dharma, in spite of the weather...
RantsCounterRants: Yeah, f*ck them and the horse they rode in on. DailyKos posted on the efforts by Texas politicians to require a mandatory 24-hour waiting period for an abortion. I didn’t hold back too much in comments: Car Wash? [check] Oil change? [check] Botox retouch? [check] Manicure? [check] Pedicure? [check] Abortion? [check] Is this how these stupid white male Since every surgery has risks, including death during surgery, The women of It always amazes me, too, that these men who think for women are rarely adoptive parents of children born to and abandoned by women who couldn't afford an abortion or waited too long while *thinking* it over. What if this was not a much-wanted and much-beloved baby-to-be? Do you think the woman carrying it might actually be thinking obsessively in overtime about the implications, that perhaps to this woman it's a wildly growing growth taking over her body? Another 24 hours to that woman would be a cruel eternity, inhuman torture. I'm furious about this in a dozen ways...but this rant will have to do for now. I really enjoy DailyKos; for the most part, we’re on the same team. But this comment from him really took the cake – and you can see above that I didn’t spare him on it: “In theory, I don't have a problem with a 24-hour waiting period. An abortion procedure is serious business, and some reflection wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing…” I really do think being male AND never having had a child or watching your own child be born makes a hell of a lot of difference in a man’s understanding of the demands of pregnancy and birth. Really. Until you either pass an 8-pound object the size of a normal adult cat through your pelvis, or you watch a loved one squeeze one out, up close and personal, don’t presume to tell me “in theory” a woman may be asked to wait another day for an abortion. Go ahead, guys, go round up a gallon jug of milk. It weighs about 8 pounds. Tell some woman she has to ponder for 24 more hours on carrying something that big around in her pelvis, think some more about passing it out of her body, regardless of whether she wants it or doesn’t, keeps it or gives it up when she’s done.
Build-A-Meme Project: The Meme Manifesto If you haven’t read it at The Barbaric Yawp, please do so. Thank you, Francis Scott Key, wherever you are.
Mmm...the promise of tomatoes, red and redolent, warmed by the sun; sweet-tart, juicy slices snuggled between fresh mozzarella and a piquant basil leaf, blessed with sea salt and cracked black pepper, annointed with olive oil. Nine golden promises. Mmm-mmm. 11:43:01 AM
WARNING: SLOW BLOGGER AHEAD Yeah, I’m still dragging my wagon. Up again until the wee hours for the fourth day running. I’ve simply not gotten enough sleep to regenerate the glycogen my brain is demanding. Caffeine no longer functions as a substitute for glycogen, either. I’m going to have to catch a nap today, somehow. Maybe I’ll just curl up on top of the dryer between loads. Works for cats, doesn’t it? Worse, the in-laws are coming. I’m going to have to rip the house apart to clean over the next 24 hours before their arrival. I’m trying to get pumped up for this task but it’s not happening. And I owe e-mails all over the place, coming in faster than I can reply. <phone ringing> Damnation, the in-laws are going to be here a day earlier than scheduled. Gotta’ run.
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